


Fragile Hope

by CherryPlasma



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Death, Freeform, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Jake needs a hug, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Not Epilogue Compliant, Short One Shot, That's What Happened Though, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryPlasma/pseuds/CherryPlasma
Summary: Since his life started to slip through his fingers and spill down the drain like stale booze, Jake’s only solace was Dirk.
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Kudos: 8





	Fragile Hope

Jake English had long since given up on feigning happiness. There were times he wondered if he ever truly had been in all his forty-two years of life. Of course, the answer was far less dramatic than the question; yes, he’d been happy once. When he was a small lad holed up on his island, fighting off beasts, strifing with brobot, adventuring by day and pestering his friends by night. It was when that blasted game hit those self-same friends and he that everything turned rotten. Things hadn’t gotten better from there, even after Sburb passed. Now here he was, a broken middle-aged man trapped in a loveless marriage to an unfaithful woman, father of a child whom he could hardly look at some days, and a regular consumer of the alcohol he once loathed. 

Since his life started to slip through his fingers and spill down the drain like stale booze, Jake’s only solace was Dirk. Well, what remained of him anyway. A cold, hard marble slab in the local cemetery twenty minutes from Jake’s home. Nearly twice a week Jake would make his way there, a bouquet of randomized flowers in hand, and park his caboose in front of his grave. When it was needed he would brush away the weeds and dead flowers crawling up his late boyfriend’s headstone before he arranged the fresh blooms along the base of it and struck up his usual one way conversation with the man buried beneath. 

Some days he’d express the tensity that came with being wed to one Jane Crocker. Some days he’d talk about Tavvy and the stresses of fatherhood. Most days Jake recounted their time together; as friends, as lovers, and as less than both. 

Often, Jake would find himself latched across the slab, blubbering like a child whilst telling the long-since passed that he loved him; always had, always will, over and over and over well into the night until cool air bit at his tear-stained cheeks and he couldn’t bring himself to cry anymore. He’d let the sharp whistling of the wind as it ripped through trees lull him into a sleep-like trance as he held onto icy marble, imagining, wishing he was holding its namesake instead, until he was woken by the keepers and sent home late enough that Janey was fast-asleep by the time he snuck through the front door.

That was the time of night when Jake began to drown himself in his happy juice; for hours and hours until he wound up close to passing out beside the ceramic dome of his toilet, a ghastly mix of vomit and alcohol on his breath. It was in that haze, those moments between consciousness and not, that Jake would see him; a halo of white-blonde hair and ridiculous shades. Phantom Dirk would kneel beside him, smelling of citrus and machine oil, and offer Jake a flickering smile. Sometimes he would speak, but his words were jumbled and shaken like pieces of aj unsolvable puzzle. Desperately, Jake would reach for the man he loved, the man he missed, the man he would give anything to see again...and watch the image of his beloved crack and shatter like the last bits of Jake’s fragile hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Greeting to those who have made it this far! This is my first (and hopefully not only) real fic, especially for this fandom in particular. I'd greatly appreciate any constructive criticism you have and any comments you'd like to make. Thank you for taking the time to read this disaster.


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